


Memories and His Agony

by otakuashels



Series: Dread Wolf and the Halla [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Love, Post-Game, Regret, Romance, Sequel, Sorrow, Temptation, brokenheart, coming to terms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 22:46:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4684133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otakuashels/pseuds/otakuashels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>my love has vanished through the veil so now I’m stark and bare<br/>at night I go to sleep and dream and hope he’ll meet me there<br/>he wandered from the waking world, I know not where he went<br/>but I’d be with my dread wolf now,<br/>if I could only catch his scent."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories and His Agony

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Adrenaline and her Liars.

After the pain it was easy. In ways. In others not so much. It had been cold and hot. Passion and desperation. Now damp sheets and dry mouth. Rubbing long fingers over her face to brush away sleep and rake mused hair, she sighed. Hazy, lazy sunlight trudging through her balcony spoke of approaching dawn. 

Memories. Morning better than twilight. 

Joints cracking and muscles moaning in pleasure stretched, she blinked slowly. Pressing her face into feathered pillows, no movement to escape the caress and stroke of entangled blankets. She favored her other side as footsteps on stairs altered her of unbending schedules. Shrugging the blanket over her form, she chose damp over pity. Better sweat soaked sheets than pitied glances over the bumps of her spine. 

Four steps. 

One, click of the breakfast tray against her wooden desk. 

Two, "Good morning Inquisitor. Is there any other way I may be of service to you?" 

Three, silence. 

Four, "Very good Inquisitor, I will take my leave" Footsteps. Door latch. Click. Alone. Alone, too often a state of being now. Awake meant Alone. Asleep meant alone.  
Even her barefoot ventures through the fade were alone. Not a pride demon, desire demon or playful wisps of curiosity approached her nights admired her presence any longer. 

Him. 

It was his fault without a doubt. He drove them away. Safe. That's probably what he thought he was doing. Keeping her safe She scoffed, sliding from the bed. He couldn't keep her safe. Not when the things that were her greatest danger never left her. How is one to be safe from a broken heart and an isolated mind. 

Tawdry, iridescent sentiment. Every her surroundings were becoming isolated. 

Her one unshakeable companions now fluttered in and out like migrating birds. Some, it had been near 5 months since she had seen a smile, heard a voice. Just words, hobble scratched and ink stained letters. 

Cold feet, cold floor. Gooseflesh, raised hairs, perked nipples. Cold. 

She came to a halt at the edge of her desk, nose wrinkling in amused disgust, flecked with apprehension. At least the servants had learned. Leliana had left instructions. 2 months. 2 months since the spymaster had left. Eyes ravenous. Licking and scraping at the horizon atop a gilded mare. She, silent as he chattered on about everything and anything. King. They were going to meet The Warden. A year ago she would have salivated, begged and pleaded for a chance to accompany them. A year ago she would have been leaking jealousy, plump and ripe for the picking. Feast for a desire demon. Now, like a fine Orelian chocolate. Accepting. Ever so slightly bitter. 

Breakfast. Once a tray, filled to the brim with fruits and fine pastries, leaving her mouth sprinkled with crystals, tongue saturated and heavy, washed away only by a fragrant tea. Sometimes followed by a chaser of innocent kisses and whispered elvhen. A feast for her to lick and cherish. 

Rubbish. Waste. Memories. His Agony. 

Now, Sensible. A biscuit, plain with no flourish of unnecessary jams or spreads. She would call for those once again when Dorian visited. No point in pretending now. He was gone right now. Minrathos. Studying, trying to save her no doubt. 

One, piece of cheese. A cup of water. Plain and simple. It would hold her well unto supper. Past sundown. The cheese however, held no appeal for her this morning. Biscuit, sufficient. 

'Please' 

"ha" there it was again. That word, that beg. Every half eaten tray, every drained wineskin. For three months that plea. Insanity, that's probably what it was. Moving away from the desk the plea gained volume. The memory. Agony. Oh sweet, agony. Passing her mirror, her vallehsin more prominent than ever, over stark cheekbones. Pleasure. He had taken much from her. But not that. No. His discomfort. Not hers. 

Satisfaction. 

She took little notice to the chill of the archway as she leaned against it, naked and pale. One would think, after all that time spent traipsing Oralis, the western approach, she would have tanned. But no, she was either pale or burnt red. Without Dorian's salves she certainly would have curled into a crips and blown away with the wind. Dark haired and dark eyed her own clan had been littered with puzzlement, it was odd. Though, she was always covered in furs and wraps, she could never seem to stay warm enough. Like she needed a warm, furred body to regulate her own broken system. Irony. 

She chewed absentmindedly, watching a flock of birds ride the wind, heading south. Winter was approaching. 

Dusty, chewy, crumbly. 

Tasteless. 

She wondered what winter would bring. Would her companions come and stay back at Skyhold? With her? Or would they stay in their respective homes and wait until springs laughter prompted flowers from the fields and the frolic of animals. Animals. She needed to hunt. Pushing the last bite into her mouth she whirled from the doorway, nimble fingers prompting open her trunk. Shifting, shifting. There was her hunting outfit. Pulling at the leggings and top she shrugged into the piece, tightening cords as they sagged from her form. She used to be beautiful. She glared at the mark in her hand. All of that and this was how she was to die. 

Predator to prey it would seem. Fitting for the foolish Dalish women to give her heart to the greatest predator of all. Damned fool. 

She briefly appraised her personal staff, laying unused in the corner of her room. Turning on her heal she dropped low to pull a bow and filled quiver from its place beneath her frame. It had been long since she had taken an arrow to aim and pierce through the flesh of an unsuspecting animal. Maybe a bit of unrelated melancholy would prove for a better night's sleep. 

An act. Ah...an act. If she was too take up her old bow, one that had been a partner for her in her travels with arraval and clan it was an act of sorts. Maybe she should go all out. She had proved sufficient in the effort of act and disguise at the winter palace so long ago, maybe she still had such skill. Buckling the quiver and bow she moved back to the desk , plucking up the chunked wedge of cheese, breaking it in two and shoving each piece in her mouth respectively. She chewed quickly and with statement. Jaw aching ever so slightly at the long time since felt action. She chased the lump forming in her throat away with lukewarm water and trotted down the stairs. If she wanted a good day, of any success she would need to begin early. Acting. Acting. Good thing Cole had been absent for a weeks time or so, he would sour her whole plan. 

Cole and Solas always got along. 

Forbidden Territory: 

-"How go your attempts to ease the pain of those at Skyhold, Cole?"  
-"I made the scullery maid stop crying and one of the boys in the stable is happier. Some of the servants are angry. My help makes work for them. Do you want me to stop?"  
-"No. You exist to help others. You are kindness, compassion, caring. If you stop giving comfort, you would twist into something else, as you did before I suspect."  
-" Yes. I will not be that again."  
-"Good. Never forget your purpose. It is a noble one, even if this world does not understand." 

Memories, Agony. 

Stop. A shake of the head, raking hands through hair. Distracting. Better distractions than pain. You know better foolish Da'len, that is forbidden territory.  
She adored the little spirit, but sometimes his ramblings proved to need a gag. Silence, sometimes sweeter than nectar. Sometimes as thick and drowning as well. Like memories. It was ironic really.Memories of past were allowed , just not of- stop. 

Music. 

She knew not what prompted it, but she began to hum. 

Wait, there it was. Movement, a tremor in the veil. She continued. 

Startled expressions and hopeful eyes stuck to her. She nodded towards those who gave her their attentions. Without a doubt whispers would swell inside of Skyholds walls this afternoon and letters would probably make it to her past companions. Good, maybe the worry oozing out of their roundabout comments and questions would cease. Why had she not thought of this before. Eyes of determination, a quirk of the mouth and steps filled with direction. Ever signs of a healthy person. Games. Rubbish. Success. 

Trickery, sly and patient. Like the wolf. And had she not been played by the best? A past time. Time. An odd, odd little but majestic beast. It would travel slow or fast, with no concern to who it affected.... 

That she took note of, now that it was sunset, twilight and she sat, skinning one of six rabbits she had took that day. She would have to send soldiers after the two deer whose hearts she had pierced and throats she had slit. The hunt. Pleasure. Adrenaline. Sent her nerves all squirmy and flinchy. The ground had felt familiar beneath her bare feet, shoes forsaken for silence. Her shoulders ached pleasantly. No longer used to the strain and pull of the bow, but sang praises at the memory. 

Something. Something about holding one's life in your hands and ending it. Dangerous and pleasurable. Almost leaving one's mind hazed with the pleasure similar to that of satisfying sex. 

There it was. Again. The tremor. Shaking, shuddering, kenning. Disturbance of the veil. The rumbling of sound in her throat, tickling against her tongue and closed lips would not be enough then. The shaking of vocal chords and the tantalizing sensation of speech would be the determination. Hand stilling over the limp skin and slowly draining warmth. The dagger and fingers stilled. No more. Eyes closed. Forest dark. Sounds, still gone. A breathing, hushed, predatory. Waiting. 

Sing. 

"when I was a child sat upon my mother’s knee  
by firelight she spoke of rights, and ancient history  
and one phrase she repeated though I knew not what it meant  
be safe, da’len, young lethallan,  
may the dread wolf never catch your scent. 

and as I grew I thought I knew the path my life would take  
but when the dream broke open, only I was left awake  
and then you took my hand and taught me how to turn the key  
I held it, how was I to know,  
I’d let the wolf catch wind of me? 

I took up arms, I lead the charge, some called me prophet, blessed  
and by my side you guided, wise and seemingly guileless  
but the truth’s not always obvious, not written on the skin  
sometimes to let the truth come out,  
you have to let the dread come in. 

you called me “ma vhenan” and showed me worlds I’d never known  
lands of mists and memories, of faded sky and stone  
then with words so soft and sad, you left me in that glen  
and though you brought me low  
I know,  
I’d let the dread wolf in again. 

my love has vanished through the veil so now I’m stark and bare  
at night I go to sleep and dream and hope he’ll meet me there  
he wandered from the waking world, I know not where he went  
but I’d be with my dread wolf now,  
if I could only catch his scent." 

Eyelids, open, fuzzy 

images, blurred and unshed, never shed tears. Hazy twilight. There. Two pairs. Bright eyes. Ears back, slow kenning whine. Large paws, one in front of the other, into her small personal alcove. Invading. Pleasure. Thrill. Uncertainty.  
Pleasure. Reliance. Trust. Lies. 

She watched him as carefully as he watched her. Memory. 

"Fen'Harel" Agony.

**Author's Note:**

> Dread wolf song is not my own creation. I found that song at:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x46QHercK4s


End file.
